


'nesting?' 'come on.'

by nymeriahale



Series: prompt fills [26]
Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/nymeriahale
Summary: They settle in front of the fire, leaning back against the sofa and sideways into each other. Owen pulls George in close with an arm around his shoulders, George reciprocating by tucking his arm around Owen’s back, sneaking cold fingers onto a sliver on bare skin at his hip. Owen grunts a protest but doesn’t say a word, which is good enough for George. He leans forwards - George groaning his own protest, at that - but only to grab the blanket, dragging it up over their legs.
Relationships: Owen Farrell/George Ford
Series: prompt fills [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/396019
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	'nesting?' 'come on.'

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the prompt: Out of the shower, hot chocolate, fireplace, cosy blanket for 2, neck kisses, cuddles. 
> 
> I will be posting 10 of my prompts fills at a rate of two a day - I apologise in advance for the notification emails! I actually filled 33 prompts in total, of which I now have a complete [tumblr masterpost](http://fordfarrell.tumblr.com/prompts-masterlist) if anyone is interested in reading more of them. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction and as such nothing is to be considered implied or insinuated about real life rugby players.

George shivers on opening the door to the bathroom, releasing a billow of steam and admitting a rush of cold air. He and Owen had got in an hour ago and put the heating on straight away, he can’t believe the place hasn’t warmed up more in that time. A shower had definitely been a good idea, he thinks, rubbing a towel over his head as he picks out an old training jumper to pull on. It’s one of Owen’s, but the Saracens branding has mostly flaked off by now, and George likes the way it falls just a little too large on his shoulders. 

George had been jealous of Owen getting the shower first - he’d claimed it as soon as they got in, and despite the temptation to share George had thought it more sensible to unpack while he still had the energy. When George arrives downstairs to a fire already lit in the hearth, the lounge starting to warm, he reassesses his fortunes. He hates making a fire nearly as much as Owen hates unpacking - Owen knows that, and he knows how much George loves an open fire, too. 

George pulls cushions from the sofa to his and Owen’s usual spots near the fire, just dragging the last blanket as Owen comes through the door carrying two steaming mugs. He comes straight to George’s side, presses a mug into his hand and a kiss to his temple.

George hums happily as he inhales the scent - hot chocolate, just what he needs. “I love you,” he tells Owen, leaning in as Owen wraps his now free arm around George’s waist.

Owen only hums in return. “Nesting?” he asks, looking down at the pile of cushions.

“Come on,” George invites, holding out a hand.

They settle in front of the fire, leaning back against the sofa and sideways into each other. Owen pulls George in close with an arm around his shoulders, George reciprocating by tucking his arm around Owen’s back, sneaking cold fingers onto a sliver on bare skin at his hip. Owen grunts a protest but doesn’t say a word, which is good enough for George. He leans forwards - George groaning his own protest, at that - but only to grab the blanket, dragging it up over their legs. It may get too hot, when the fire gets going, but for now it’s just right. 

“There,” Owen says, satisfied.

“Happy?” George asks.

“Always,” Owen murmurs, dropping a kiss into George’s hair.

George can’t help the smile at that, hides it by reaching out and taking a sip of his hot chocolate. It’s perfect, of course, Owen knowing just how he likes it.

“Not worried we’re too close to the fire?” George teases. 

They probably are, if George is being honest - last time they’d sat like this the fire had spat a spark onto Owen’s trousers. It had left a mark on the fabric but nothing more, not that you’d’ve known that from Owen’s initial reaction. 

“That’s what the blanket is for,” Owen admits.

George laughs, not having expected that. “Clever!”

“I’ve not lost all my brain cells yet,” Owen says wryly.

“Not yet,” George teases, turning to kiss - Owen’s throat, when it turns out to be all he can reach.

Owen huffs out a breath, tilts his head to give George more access.

So George does it again, lays gentle lips at the base of Owen’s throat, drags them up to the underside of his jaw, reveling in the groan that draws from Owen’s throat. George stifles his smile to lay a fresh kiss on the same spot, before withdrawing to settle his head on Owen’s shoulder.

“Happy?” Owen asks, hushed.

“Always,” George replies.

**Author's Note:**

> As always I can be found on [twitter](http://twitter.com/nymeriahale) and both my [main](http://nymeriahale.tumblr.com) and [rugby](http://fordfarrell.tumblr.com) tumblrs, and would love to hear from you either there or in the comments! I hope you enjoyed and that you and yours are safe and well :)


End file.
